Upon a Silent hill
by TheMajesticJunk
Summary: "We all have our own silent hill waiting for us in the end; it's just a matter of when we give in to it." Trouble has been a brewin', the big man upstairs is getting more anxious, and it's all coming from one place that not even Constantine would go... Silent Hill.
1. The next point

Chapter 1: The next point.

 _We all have our own silent hill waiting for us in the end; it's just a matter of when we give in to it._

"DAHHH!" Awoke the man, sitting on the sofa in the middle of a room that bares a collection of valuables and items of the dark arts. His attire was messy to say the least. He wore a loose red tie and a poorly ironed shirt, with a lack of any trousers as well. The man sat up from his rest, taking deep breaths from what seems like a total nightmare to him. He grabbed a glass of alcohol and stares into the mirror above the fireplace above him. He raises a toast to the man in the mirror, sitting by the chair next to him, but not literally. A ghost from the past he would call him. Someone he betrayed all the time, and even to his very last moments.

"Well Gary, you bugger, cheers to being alone." He lowers his glass, and takes one sip. He slouched, all miserable and depressed like, but that's to be expected from John Constantine. He lay back, silent as the wind, as he looks back, and starts thinking deep, well deeper than usual. He starts to think back throughout his history, thinking about how much bloodshed and misery his lead behind him; how he's the last man standing. He'd applaud himself if there wasn't something gnawing at his back, making him doubt himself, making himself feel less. While digging deeper into his psyche, a large flapping caught his attention, but not enough to find out what it is. He knows what that sound meant, and he was bloody pissed about it.

"You know John, lying around isn't going to stop them." The man had an aura to him, something that made you feel as if you can tell him your woes. John looked behind him to see his guardian angel, leaning against a wooden pillar, staring him down with his deep yellow eyes. John turns back around, and takes another sip of his drink. "You can ignore me all you want, but there's still more work to be done, and you've barely scratched the surface of defeating the rising darkness."

"Sorry squire, but it's my day off, so go bother some other mystic with your problems." John retorted, finishing off his drink. "Anyway, you burned the bloody scrying map. I'm sure the rising darkness has days off rest as well."

As john got up and walked into the kitchen, he met the angel once more, leaning against the fridge, as if he had always been there. "You know I can't let you do that john. The boundaries between heaven and hell are weakening, there will be a war, and earth will be caught right in the middle of it. You seem to not understand that part."

John stared at the angel right in his eyes, giving him a judged feeling, and opened the fridge he was leaning against. "Oh I understand that part perfectly mate, but here's the problem; what the hell do you suppose I do, huh? I don't properly have a lead on anything; Zed is taking a break from her clairvoyance, and Chaz is having a field day with his family. If your 'employers' can give me a point to go to, I sure as hell will go."

John was ready to take another sip, gloating at his guardian angel, knowing that he's too strict on following the "rules" of the Lord, but his angel got the better of him. "Maine. That's where you're heading this time."

John stumbled a bit, taking aback by the angel's response. He looked back at the angel, seeing his serious face staring right back at him. "Well, that's new. I didn't think the big man upstairs would let you do such a thing."

"He sent me to tell you where you're heading John. He's began to worry about a certain place; one I'm sure all mystics have heard of."

"And what place might that be, eh?" John asked, while trying to find his trousers.

"Silent hill." The angel stated without a hint of hesitation. John froze, holding onto his trousers in shock. He slowly re-positioned himself, and faced the angel.

"Silent… hill…"

"Yes. That's where your next destination lies." John, letting that information sinks in, sat down in contemplation. "You're the only man and mystic that's able to step into that town."

"I ain't going…" John retorted.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm not going to that wretched, festering hell hole of a town." The angle grew restless by John's refusal.

"John, you don't have a choice in the matter." The Angel explained. "Silent hill won't allow anyone in without true regret and sorrow in their heart. You're one of those very people that have that type of sorrow that plagues them daily and with enough power to defeat it."

"Mate; I don't think you quite understand what you're talking about." John stood up and faced the angel right up to its face. "That place, that you're asking me to, has a grave waiting for anyone that sets foot in that town. The moment that any-"

"There IS, no way out of this." The angel interrupted, silencing the street magician. "You can't avoid it. And lest we forget, you're doing this to save your soul, and that of the girl's."

John circled himself, scratching his head vigorously. "Why now then? Why is it that God has sent you now, to sort out whatever trouble is going down in that hell hole?"

The angel didn't answer him, remaining quiet as john stared him down. He looked away with disgust. "So what? That's it? You're not going to tell me a damn thing then, is that it? You ask me to go to that damned town that even I don't want to go to, and you can't even give me the common courtesy to grow a pair and TELL ME WHAT I'M SUPPOSED TO DO!?" He raised his voice.

"You know I can't tell you our plans John." The Angel retorted, which made Constantine let out a small laugh.

"After all this time, you still can't be less of a bloody wanker, can you?" As soon as those words came out of his mouth, the angel appeared right in front of him, grabbing him by his front collar.

"It's not wise to anger an angel John." He lifted him above his head, Constantine grabbing his hands, trying to release himself from his grip, but found that he was surprisingly strong. "While I might not be able to be kill you, that doesn't mean I cannot hurt you into submission. It might actually help."

"Hm." John simply mouthed, relaxing himself from the struggle. "Well, go on then. Have at it; thought I wouldn't say that it'll help."

"You're not afraid?" The angel smirked, almost in a demonic way.

"Me? nah; and you know you aren't in a good place if you see me confident." John asked him. The angel furrowed his eyes due to the exorcist's increase in confidence. "Cause you know me; I ain't the trusting sort, not even to an angel like you. Don't think I'm not ready for anything, and as luck would have it, I really don't think you know your old man as well as I do."

"... I'm sorry?" The angel asked in the same riled up tone.

"Well, I'm just saying, it's your choice to hit me, beat me, torture my mind, put me in restless pain, but then what would that get you?" John pointed out confidently. "Absolutely nothing. And what a disappointment you would be to dear old dad. Putting all that effort to a poor sod like me; now the man upstairs, we have a bit of an agreement, just not with you, and I don't think you don't want to know what type of agreement it is. Cause, if you do, you're going to be seriously disappointed. "

The angel reluctantly dropped Constantine, who smirked at getting the better of him. "Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna have breakfast."

"We don't know what's in Silent Hill." The angel spoke out, stopping the exorcist in his tracks once more. "That's why I couldn't tell you. We have no idea what's going on, but all we know is that it's getting stronger due to some unknown reason, and we needed you to stop it, and your STUBBORNNESS is wearing away my patience."

"Hehe, well why didn't you say so?" John stared at his angelic colleague, then went off to find his trousers and the rest of his attire. "You lot can be so stubborn yourself. Now you know how it feels."

"So are you agreeing to help us then?" The angel asked, turning around to see John with finally a pair of trousers, a bag in hand and a long trench coat to add.

"You know, Manny, you are a complete plonker." Manny shot him an angered look, while John returned a smirk. "But if this place has the big man upstairs even remotely scared, then this might be enough."

"For what?" Manny asked.

"Oh I think you know the answer to that. Now if you don't mind, I need a pen." John grabbed himself a pen and paper for him, writing down a note for Chaz and Zed when they return to the Millhouse. He threw it on the table, and ran up the spiral staircase. "You owe me breakfast."

The note said:

 _Sorry mates_

 _Little busy at the moment_

 _Got hired by our angelic friend to look and find out whatever's happening in silent hill. Don't go looking for me, it won't work._

 _John._

 ** _Well, there you have it mates, the beginning of a new chapter in Silent hill, with a street magician to boot. I was absolutely gutted when I heard Constantine was never going to reappear on our small screens evermore. I wanted to do something for our little con-man, and well I started reading up on Silent hills the cancelled game and one thing led to another and well, here we are. Now first things first; no this will not contain anything to do with the Doctor or the plans with my other crossovers that I plan to do with the Doctor, nor will he ever crossover with our favourite time-lord, as I just believe that these two are from COMPLETLEY different universes. This might take longer to make as I'm focusing my work on 'The devil's essence', but I will try and stay committed to the story as much as the other two. I think that's everything cleared up. So ALLONSY!_**


	2. The calm before the storm

Chapter 2: The calm before the storm

John's journey was not an easy one. Without his friend's car to travel cross country, he had to rely on his wits and a little charmed magic to get through the travel; and with a bag in hand and a whole lot of thinking to do, John was more than prepared. Often times he would make a few halts to take a break, yet never truly stopped in his tracks to help out a person in need; simply passing through towns, crowds, streets, cities even, and all with a troubled brow. Few strangers dared to ask him his problems, and all he would reply with was a few simple words. "Well mate; this may as well be my last trip."

His words rang sorrow and remorse in the minds of the people he talked to. There would be the occasional person, trying to comfort him from his woes, but that didn't change his belief; his sentence; his last journey. John carried on his travels, bag in hand and a whole lot of thinking on his mind. He settled himself on a bus, as it carried him along through his final miles. It was silent; barely anyone to join him on the bus, and it was just the way he liked it. He watched as the flashing lights of buildings and street lamps passed his eyes, almost in a hypnotic way. John's weariness got the better of him; his eyes drifting away from the passing buildings, and into the dark abyss that is his dreams.

There was nothing. The exorcist stood alone in the vast abyss; nothing laying upon his feet, no heaven to aspire to, no hell to avoid, just the nothingness in his wake. He lit up a single cigarette, emanating the smallest light from where he was, and there, he was able to see something; ground. He held aloft his golden lighter above his head, and began to traverse his dream.

Scattered papers, broken glass and random objects were thrown around this hallway of what looks like a run-down hospital. Rust was the main thing that he could see in his little dream world of his, as it engulfed most of the walls and equipment that lay about. He accidentally knocked over a few stands and bumped into the occasional bed, but he just carried on like usual.

"What the hell is the point of this?" John muttered to himself. A magician's dreams are different to the common man. Those who are not accustomed to the mystical merely have nonsensical dreams; those that have little to no context to the coming days ahead, but to a magician, their dreams are full of clues and expectations. Sometimes not as clear, others can be crystal. His journey in the dream world was almost fruitless to him, until the repeated sounds of little footsteps caught his attention. He ran towards it, following his instinct; closer, and closer and closer to the sound.

He notices a small light in the distance, and with curiosity as his guide, he follows it, not knowing what was in store for him. The flame above him lickers as he moves with haste; his coat flaps about; his feet echo in this endless hallway as he breathes heavily, almost reaching the light. John closed his lighter, and puts it back in his pocket, as the hallway becomes clear as day. Shielding himself from the blinding rays, he approaches. He enters, and sees an empty, lone grave, in the middle of a field, surrounded by the nothingness once more.

He walked to the grave, detailing its neatly kept cutting, it's perfectly shaped hole, and its markings left on the grave itself. It didn't really surprise him, knowing what he was going to do; a bit cryptic for his taste, but it would suffice. _John Constantine. One grave remaining._ He crouched down, looking deep into the whole, at first he thought it was a simple dug hole, but with further inspection, there was something different with it. It grew. His eyes widened in curiosity, standing up and preparing it turn away, but with one small nudge, he was sent into the depth of the pit.

"AAAAAHHHH!" He released a scream he never thought he would let out, causing him to be shaken back into the real world. A balding, round, middle-aged man with a bushy yet small moustache met him, looking awfully confused at the heavily-breathing exorcist.

"Are you alright, mate?" The bus driver asked with his English accent, holding onto John's shoulder. "It's the last stop."

John looked around the empty bus; rows upon rows of chair that once were occupied. He looked outside the window, and saw a bright, ordinary street; not much problems to be seen by the naked eye, so that was actually a first. People walking in and out of the stores and cafes in the light of day, talking amongst themselves, and smiling without a caring in the world. "How long was I out for?"

"Well you got on the Bus at Providence; if I'm remembering correctly, then people started complaining about your sleep talking when we reached New Hampshire so about-"The bus driver was interrupted.

"Wait, wait, wait, I was sleeping talking?" John inquired. "What did I talk about?"

"I'm not sure really; people came in to talk to me about your sleep talking, asked me to throw you out; said you were repeating some sort of chant, but they couldn't make head or tails of it." The bus driver explained. "You actually scared a few people off with it, but they were annoying anyways, so I guess that's a plus."

The two let out small chuckles. "Thanks for that mate. I haven't had a good laugh in a long time. I've been hitting on some hard times."

"Ah, well us Liverpool boys have to stick together, enit?" The bus driver nudged him, making john smirk. "Just got transferred a month ago. These bloody Americans I tell you, never let to shut up."

"Drown it down with beer; that's always my solution." John replied.

"Yeah well, I can't; can I? Drinking and driving and all that?" The bus driver sarcastically pointed out. He began to take his wallet out, and flick through his notes. "Tell you what, have a pint on me mate; you look like you need one."

"Um… cheers mate; awfully nice of you." John thanked him.

"Aye. You can just call it an act of random kindness." The bus driver trudged along the rows of bus seats, and out the bus he went. John stared at the note he was given, and then pocketed it away. He got up from his seat, stretched a bit, and grabbed his bag from the shelf above. He stepped out of the travel bus; the bright shine of the sun blinded him, causing him to shield his eyes with his arm. He quickly pulled out his sunglasses from inside his jacket, put them on, and walked away.

He strolled around for a bit, just looking around and minding his own business, till he came upon a sign.

 _Welcome To Brahms._

 _Hope you enjoy your stay._

"Tsk. I wouldn't count on it." John muttered to himself.


End file.
